Chicken
by DragonSapphire
Summary: Kenny has a new game. Cartman/Kyle, Kenny/?


Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or its characters, and make no profit from writing this story. South Park & Characters are property of Matt Stone & Trey Parker.

**Chicken**

By DragonSapphire

Kenny had this idea for a game, and for some retarded reason it caught on like wildfire at South Park High. The game was to lean your face in like you were gonna kiss someone, and whoever backed off or 'chicken'ed out first was the loser, see? The only thing was your opponent had to be the same gender - if only for the gross-out factor - and you had to have witnesses, otherwise you were totally making out with another dude, and that was just plain fuckin' gay.

* * *

Kyle, ever-quick to shun fads and quickly-passing, dumbass ideas, more often than not found himself staring down a vaster spectrum of eyes than Medusa, getting more face-time than anyone else he knew in his class. Right away he refused to play with Kenny after the first time he found himself in a dire lip-lock with the dirty blond, who didn't even hesitate to go for it, no matter _who_ was on the challenging end. By Kenny's own rule it wasn't gay unless they were battling alone, but he was enough of an attention whore, and just plain whore, that wrangling the center of attention was never an issue.

Kyle rather suspected Kenny came up with this elaborate game and implemented its practice all on his own just to get away with kissing boys without being called a fag.

Stan was no challenge - Kyle could count on his super best friend to flinch if a guy so much as inclined his head in his direction. But not wanting to be seen as an unfun douchebag, Stan always gave into peer pressure, reluctantly accepting challenges and losing every one of them. Again, self-proclaimed King of Chicken Kenny had fucked up another's chances of remotely surpassing his title by having laid a big 'ol wet one on Stan's gaping mouth their very first time together.

* * *

The battles between Kyle and Cartman swiftly became legendary.

The tension and hatred between them was so intense their showdowns were guaranteed to make any watchers-on sweat out tears of blood just for some kind of relief to the silent confrontations that could last long after the first morning bell rang outside the school gates. Every morning their mouths progressed closer and closer, unblinking, unflinching, even though Kyle could feel his blood pressure raising so dangerously high migraines throbbed irritatingly behind his eyes.

The only other person to have had the balls, and remarkable control over their bladder, to even challenge Cartman had been - of course - Kenny. The blond's lips hadn't waited for Cartman's automatic refusal of the 'gay-ass fucking queermo game' and had brushed against the fatass' to everyone's shock and revulsion.

Kyle had felt like he was watching from a distance, only dimly aware of Cartman's big hand flying up to clench around Kenny's throat, slamming the other's head back against the brick school building wall with enough force to make Kenny's nose bleed.

Kyle blinked, the world spinning in slow-motion as Kenny coughed and wiped his nose on the back of his forearm when Cartman released him with a disgusted sneer, leaving a crimson streak to bleed into the filthy orange material of his parka.

Kenny had taken an ungainly, lurching step to the side, although Kyle thought he'd meant to move forward. Stan was there, wrapping a supportive arm around Kenny's waist, and coaxing him in wordless murmurs towards the nurse's office. Kenny had unhesitatingly slid his own arm around Stan and leaned against him tight enough that their sides blended together seamlessly. His eyes hadn't left Cartman's the entire time, though the washed-out blue of them were no more threatening or heated than the vaguely distant rumbling of thunder passing after a light drizzle that morning.

Cartman had been pissed off, but no more so than usual. And when his and Kyle's eyes met, the world rushing forward into real-time, Kyle realized for the first time Cartman had never, not once, backed down from a chicken challenge with him.

* * *

Kyle's mouth was open, softly parted, his head tilted and his startling green eyes half-lidded as if he were in the midst of a deep kiss.

Cartman's thick brows were lightly furrowed, his mouth closed, but his strong chin tilted defiantly towards Kyle's as he glared down at the smaller Jew. Every aborted breath brought them a shiver's-breadth closer to touching, their noses nearly cleaving, and the faint twitching of eyelashes fanning each other's faces.

The gathering of high schoolers around them held their collective breaths, even the more impatient and ADHD of them motionless and staring as if they were involved in a group chicken battle.

The cold breeze fluttered Cartman and Kyle's hair beneath their hats, giving them the illusion of moving together, even if they weren't moving at all.

Challenges between them ended the same every morning - both of them backing off suddenly long after the tension mounted, climaxed, and came down from its unresolved high when still neither boy moved. It would always come the minutes, seconds, after that brutal anti-climax, both of them twitching away, stopping when they felt/saw the other's resistance give, stare a few seconds longer...holding it...and then withdrawing with the ease and dismissal of a shrug.

Goddamn stalemate, even though Cartman would predictably claim the victory each time, if pressed.

* * *

The following day, they upped the stakes by _touching_.

At the gates - their usual battle ground for chicken - Cartman slid an arm around Kyle's waist, pulling him in close like he was some kind of swooning, big-breasted slut from a bad harlequin romance. Kyle's hands fisted at his sides, unclenching after a long pause, and then slid his fingertips into the deep front pockets of Cartman's jeans, anchoring himself there. Kyle's head tilted to the right and curved upwards in a familiar greeting, Cartman's taller head unbending, going for the more dominating aerial attack he preferred.

Kyle almost had to stand on tip-toe to even remotely stand a chance, since that big-boned fucktard would even go as far to _lean_ back to make Kyle stretch his slender neck out for him. But the Jew smirked inwardly when he sunk on his heels, tired, and Cartman followed, not wanting to be seen as the one to yield first.

Kyle didn't miss the irony that the top two resisters of Kenny's stupid game were the spectacle, the main event that onlookers anticipated and booked into their daily schedules as the scandalous start to their otherwise uneventful school day.

* * *

Kyle's lips throbbed, feeling them pink and swell beneath the aggression of Cartman's non-kisses. So it was a shock to them both when the tiny overhang of their top lips brushed unintentionally for the first time, a strangled, open-mouth groan issuing from Kyle's puckered mouth, and a soft hiss of air from Cartman's. Kyle knew in a few seconds he'd be jabbing Cartman in the thigh without having moved an inch forward.

"Jesus christ... I swear this is why I have to lock myself in a stall and jack off every morning," Kyle heard Craig mutter in his nasally tone somewhere off to the side of his and Cartman's observation circle.

It was crass, vulgar, and so entirely expected that no one paid the claim much mind, other than a few mutters and vague sounds of agreement.

_-__fin_


End file.
